


If You Can't Stand the Heat…

by Laura_McEwan



Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-07-27
Updated: 2003-07-27
Packaged: 2017-10-04 05:34:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laura_McEwan/pseuds/Laura_McEwan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Obi-Wan is barefoot in the kitchen and Qui-Gon takes advantage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Can't Stand the Heat…

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you - Ghostie as always for a thorough and *hot* beta!

Barefoot and dressed only in a light tunic and leggings, Obi-Wan chopped and diced one last tuber. With a grand flourish, he scraped the cutting board free of all the various vegetables and let them slide into the simmering broth on the stove. A quick check inside the oven assured him that the dark brown bread was baking nicely, the aroma tantalizing and sparking his hunger.

"Mmmm…that smells very delicious, my Obi-Wan," a low voice growled in his ear with an accent as beloved as its speaker, arms as strong as steel bands wrapping themselves around his waist.

Obi-Wan pressed his back against the wall of solid muscle that was his master, cocking his head to one side to expose his throat to questing lips. Reaching with both hands behind him to grasp at Qui-Gon's long hair, he pulled a curtain of it across his face, inhaling deeply, luxuriating in the clean, soft scent. "You smell quite fine yourself, Master," he purred, rubbing the silky silvering strands across his cheeks.

Turning the younger man abruptly in his arms, Qui-Gon bent to capture the smiling lips with his own. "And how do I taste, Padawan?"

Obi-Wan's lips parted, the pink point of his tongue darting to trace the shape of his master's warm mouth, then stroking deeper within to lay a fiery path along its soft and moist planes. "Quite a vintage," he breathed when the kiss was finally broken, searching the bright blue eyes which were darkening with lust.

Qui-Gon felt one of his hands being placed low on his lover's body. "How do I feel, Master?" Obi-Wan whispered, grinding his groin into Qui-Gon's palm.

"Oh…you feel firm, and ripe, with juicy flesh just begging to be eaten," Qui-Gon replied, his voice husky and low, his breath quickening and louder in the pleasant quiet of the small kitchen.

With a quick flick of his wrist, he untied Obi-Wan's leggings, giving them a brief push to encourage their slow slide down the strong legs before taking the exposed, hardening shaft in hand, slowly pumping from root to end, never taking his eyes from his padawan's stormy grey ones.

Obi-Wan stepped carefully from the fabric pooled about his feet, a groan issuing forth as he grasped at Qui-Gon, tangling his fingers once more in the long, silky locks, pulling the master's head down for another deep, soul-searing kiss. His hips leisurely rocked in time to the lazy pulls, slowly dancing within the stroking circle of Qui-Gon's fingers.

Qui-Gon backed the younger man to the counter until his bare buttocks pressed against the cool metal edge, causing goosebumps to rise on the heated flesh, up the small of Obi-Wan's back. Passing his thumb across the sensitive head, Qui-Gon released the now-throbbing cock to lift his apprentice by the hips to settle in the corner where the countertops met, lifting each foot to rest on either side.

Obi-Wan watched his master's manipulations, his chest rising and falling rapidly, twitching as Qui-Gon deliberately avoided his engorged sex. Steam from the simmering stew rose and drifted across his brow, mingling with the beading sweat forming there, trickling down his temples.

Qui-Gon opened Obi-Wan's single tunic and slid hot hands beneath the coarse, homespun fabric, thumbs circling against the pebbling nipples as he leaned forward to run his tongue along the young man's jawline.

A low moan escaped Obi-Wan. His hands scrabbled at Qui-Gon's tunic and belt, desperate to touch the man he loved. Once the tunics opened, Qui-Gon abruptly caught his wrists, pushing his arms back so that his hands rested behind his thighs on the countertop. "No touching," he whispered, grinning wickedly. He ducked his head to lick at one dusky nipple as Obi-Wan pressed his head back into the corner of the cabinets, cradling it between the doors, gasping in frustration at the unexpected restriction of touch. His erection grew harder, darkly red and weeping, the milky fluid dribbling slowly down the underside, mirroring the sweat on his face.

Qui-Gon took a step back to admire the young body so lewdly displayed before him. His Obi-Wan, face flushed and damp, lips parted to expel rapid, shallow breaths, glistening torso clad only in an open tunic, knees splayed widely to reveal his frank vulnerability.

Locking his calm blue gaze on his apprentice's wild one, Qui-Gon reached into the flap on the front of his leggings to pull his own erection through to jut out like a purple stamen from an otherwise plain flower. With an open tunic and only this thick part of Qui-Gon's sex revealed, Obi-Wan moaned as he felt his master to be, at this moment, a wanton creature, nearly whorish in the fantastic eroticism of only partial nudity, and it shot his arousal to near boiling.

Stepping forward, Qui-Gon placed his hands on Obi-Wan's knees, turning his head slightly to lick and nibble in the sensitive underside at the bend of his apprentice's leg. In doing so, his hair swung gently out, the soft ends caressing the tip of the straining arousal that curved against Obi-Wan's belly. The padawan whimpered at the light, agonizing sensation, but he kept his hands on the counter, arms shaking with the effort. He screwed his eyes shut tight, breathing through his nose, desperate for more oxygen in his blood. The smell of stew, bread, and unfulfilled lust burned hotly and did nothing to soothe the frantic beating of his heart.

"Tease," he muttered and Qui-Gon bit the delicate skin gently in response, causing Obi-Wan's knee to jerk away. Qui-Gon turned his head to the opposite knee, swinging his hair again, stooping slightly so that the strands brushed against Obi-Wan's balls and along the highly sensitive length of red stiffness.

"Gahh…" Obi-Wan panted, his self-control rapidly dissolving. "Master…please…" he moaned. "I'm going to…I can't hold off…" He could feel his orgasm building and bubbling inside, matching the stew on the stove nearby.

Qui-Gon bentlower, flicking his tongue against and around the puckered opening to Obi-Wan's body, delighting in the spasms it caused in the lithe body before him. He stepped back once more, taking his own erection in hand. He pulled a few languid strokes as he teasingly noted the expression of desperate carnality on the young man's face. Obi-Wan, staring heatedly at his master, felt another surge at the sight of Qui-Gon's hand pumping back and forth. He moaned again and Qui-Gon suddenly came forward to engulf his apprentice's straining cock with his mouth, swallowing it whole and holding Obi-Wan down with his hands as the young man madly bucked and writhed, tortured with velvet heat and wet suction.

"Oh, GODS! OH GODS!" Obi-Wan screamed as his release exploded through him. His master pulled back and stroked the spurting erection with one hand while capturing the thick, viscous fluid with the other as it pumped into the air, splatting heavily into his cupped palm.

With a look full of lust, he leaned in towards Obi-Wan, plunging his tongue deep into the man's mouth, seemingly oblivious to his gasps for air. Obi-Wan pressed forward to meet him, desperate to taste of his lover, his hands still planted firmly on the counter.

Qui-Gon spread his padawan's semen on his own long shaft, lubricating it well. He plunged two fingers into Obi-Wan's opening, his mouth capturing the harsh cry of pain and pleasure within the deepening kiss.

Obi-Wan's flagging erection stiffened once more under the erotic assault, and Qui-Gon withdrew his fingers to shove his cock in their place, then pulled out and slammed back, his hands grasping Obi-Wan's legs as the younger man rocked his pelvis back and forth to meet every thrust.

The edges of his master's tunic rubbed maddeningly along the insides of Obi-Wan's legs as it swished back and forth on the tender skin. The erotic sounds of grunts and flesh slapping against flesh harmonized with the thick popping sounds of the stew reaching a boil, until Qui-Gon, sensitized by the feel of his balls sliding in and out and against the rough fabric of his leggings, felt the eruption building and roared as he came. Obi-Wan continued his minimal rocking, Qui-Gon's shaft stroking at that spot inside with each vicious entry, until the pulsing of his master's release sent him over the edge for the second time, his shout mingling with Qui-Gon's.

Still sheathed inside his lover, Qui-Gon collapsed against Obi-Wan's chest, both of them desperately attempting to catch their breath, heaving and panting against heated and sweaty skin. Pinned against the cupboards by Qui-Gon's weight, Obi-Wan weakly brought his hands up to wrap around his lover's torso, holding him close.

"Oh…gods…that was incredible," Obi-Wan panted softly, his eyes glazing as he stared at nothing over the older man's head. "I've never come so hard or so fast…twice!"

"And you say I'm no good in the kitchen," teased Qui-Gon in a hoarse voice, raising his head to press a shaky kiss on his padawan's lips.

"I withdraw the complaint," Obi-Wan replied with a weak laugh, noting with only mild dismay the acrid odor of smoke emanating from the burning bread in the oven combining with the much more enticing smell of sweat and hot sex.

_~end~_


End file.
